On Love and Valentine's Day

During the sermon today, Pastor made reference to Saul's encounter with the Lord on the road to Damascus (Acts 9:3,4).
It brought back memories of a special encounter of my own.

February 14, 2000. Not only was it the first Valentine's day that I had experienced (as an adult, of course) without the "usual" romantic themes. It was the actual date of my divorce. Seemed rather ironic to me that a final divorce hearing would occur on Valentine's day, but circumstances would not allow us to re-schedule within the necessary time frame. It would turn out to be a most profound day.

It was on a Monday and Monday evenings were when I attended a support group "overcomers". A call came from a not-quite-eighteen year old prodigal, "Are you going to be home tonight, mom?" I replied with an invite to join me for my meeting, but of course, a "not quite eighteen year old" young woman has much more romantic plans for this evening of lovers. "Well, we'll just drop by for a few minutes". She and her date were late and in a hurry, but beautiful roses and a box of chocolate were presented with a card, hugs, kisses and "I love you's". This was HUGE, for years she had rebelled and rejected. For the better part of three years, she had not lived at home. This day she chose to bring an offering of love. The healing that I had prayed and cried out for was finally available for both of us. I was running late, the flowers quickly went into a vase, the chocolates, opened and shared, the card tucked, unopened, into my bible.

Our meetings alway opened with prayer requests and praise reports, as I waited for the meeting to begin, I took the card out and read it. With quiet tears, I shared this joy with ones who had prayed for so long. My prodigal had returned!

I thought that was the lesson. He heals in His time, not Dawn's. I can trust Him with all things. I can even trust Him with "my kids".

As I drove home that evening, I cried much larger tears. Of relief, of hope, of joy. I remembered several specific incidents which had hurt me.

One in particular was the night I was called to the Emergency Room by a doctor. My child had been dropped off and the ER doctor knew she was alone and lying about her age. He convinced her that he had to call. When I arrived she looked so small, her voice was gone, her energy was so sad. As I approached her on the gurney in the hall, she turned her back to me and said "You are not my mother". She tried to scream at me but physically was incapable. I didn't hug her. I only stood with her. I quietly replied, "I love you and I will not leave you". With a police escort, she was released to my custody with a promise that she would stay at home until her follow-up visit with her physician. She would leave again, to the streets, to the friends who dabbled in witchery and drugs and sex. I couldn't stop her. But I never, ever stopped loving her.

And on this Valentine's Eve, with no man and the ink hardly dry on my divorce papers...........I knew no anger, no bitterness. My experience was the most beautiful joy, the most wonderful celebration, all was forgiven. My prodigal had come home! As I sat at a red light, I cried tears of gratitude.

It was then that I heard His voice. The voice of my Father. At a red light on Valentine's day. "Now you know how I feel", He said to me. And I thought of my own life. How many times had I tried to do it on my own, venturing into that far and distant land, thinking that my way was the better, forgetting Him, even seeking out other gods. I had rejected Him in my actions, if not my words. And yet, He was always with me. His grace, His forgiveness allowed for no bitterness. And when I surrendered and came home, He cried tears of joy that this prodigal had returned as well.